


what a pair we make

by orphan_account



Series: ficlets [8]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 11:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22969195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He’d seen worse, he’d faced worse, people have straight up asked him to kill himself to his face and yet, a little girl screaming in pure terror was what shredding him into pieces.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Series: ficlets [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551151
Comments: 6
Kudos: 145





	what a pair we make

**Author's Note:**

> wassup procrastination? *wink wink*

The heat was stinging, his muzzle felt like it had glued itself to his face and if he’d to peel it off, his very skin would come with it.

“Snowflake?” Tony’s voice came through the com, the only thing that was grounding amidst the chaos.

Bucky pulled the trigger, the familiar repulsive force of the sniper punched into his shoulder and far ahead, he saw his target fall. “Bulls eye,” he murmured, promptly freezing in shock when he was suddenly lifted into the air, weight propelling vertically higher and higher as he watched the building he was just on collapse into a cloud of dusts and debris. The metal under his arms were a safe comfort he leaned into until Tony brought them to where the rest of the team were.

“Nice save, tin can.” Clint rapped his knuckle over Tony’s helmet slimly avoiding gauntleted hand flapping at him.

Bucky lingered, wedging his metal arm in between the titanium dip lining Tony’s shoulder blades, letting his heart to even out before tapping lightly over the back of Tony’s helmet, a silent gratitude for saving his life.

He made his way to where Steve was then, crouched in front of a group of kids covered in soot and smudges of dirt. Steve seemed to be trying to calm them down while a lady stood by, looking haggard even as she oversaw the kids. Bucky’s mind immediately went to that kindergarten he’d evacuated hastily before putting a bullet through their foe.

He remembered the scared girl who hid under the table and refused to move which forced him to physically carry her out. His eyes sought out for that same face, hoping to apologize and when he did, he stepped forth. What happened next proceeded in such a confusingly accelerated fashion that Bucky was stunned, frozen on his feet with eyes as wide as saucers.

“Okay, we’re leaving first.” He heard Tony in a distance, metal arm curling around his waist before ground became clouds and motion set back in.

“You think Pizza? Or Chinese? I’m craving for raw fish but that’s probably just –,”

He left, Tony’s voice circulating like a weird white noise as he marched hurriedly to the elevator. The last thing he registered was the faint calling of his name.

He missed post battle dinner. There were three distinctly different knocks on his door which he could easily point out to be Sam’s, Steve’s and Natalia’s with Clint by her side, whining all the way in and out of Bucky’s floor.

His stomach rumbled and wailed. His mortal body had learned of hunger in the time he’d spent living in the tower; being fed generously anytime with anything he wanted had pampered his metabolism into domination and now it’s whining for fuel. He wished he could curb his appetite like he did back then, focus on something else, anything at all but Friday had just informed him that there’d be Pizza and Indian and Bucky hated how weak he had become.

Plus, staying put in his floor was evoking something claustrophobic within him since he’d become so used to simply wandering around to wherever he wanted (full access to the entire tower. He both hated and loved Tony for that amount of trust he had in Bucky).

Pampered, was what he had become. Hunger and disclosed space wouldn’t have been a problem a year ago but there he was today, weak as the next man on the street.

Eventually, even the spite washed out of him and he stepped out into the communal space in search of leftovers when his stomach threatened to eat him inside out. The clock on the oven glared 0247 and Bucky glared right back at it, pulling open the fridge’s door. There’s a Tupperware with a post it bearing his name on top of it and pizza box beneath and Bucky gratefully grabbed both, a large bottle of water and slinked out to the roof.

He’s halfway through the cold pie when he heard a rap against the glass door opening to access the roof. He stopped chewing at Tony’s face peering out, signing smoothly asking if he could come out.

 _I don’t know, it’s your roof,_ Bucky rolled his eyes and signed back.

Tony tapped at his chest, a steady three cycles of five beats and signed _, I know, but it’s your company I’m asking._

Bucky felt something catch in his throat. He swallowed the lump of flour and sauce soaking in his mouth and nodded, turning back to the view of Manhattan outlaid before him. His blinked rapidly when his vision clouded over, adamantly kept glaring out as he felt Tony sigh and plop next to him. Bucky took a large bite to escape from talking and he chewed stubbornly and pointedly even if Tony made no effort whatsoever to engage in a talk with him.

They sit in silence, until the entire pie was gone and Bucky’s eyeing the Tupperware when Tony finally spoke.

“I got it from that place we went the other day. The one you liked?”

Bucky grunted affirmatively, peeling the top of the Tupperware and mildly panicking for the lack of cutlery when a fork and spoon appeared in his vision. He raised his eyebrows, finally looking at Tony and it’s that soft smile pulling at the right corner of his mouth that did it.

His fingers trembled as he set the Tupperware down, rapid blinking failing as tears rolled down his cheeks and he clenched his jaw and fists, tight, hating this, hating himself for this meltdown. It shouldn’t matter, it really shouldn’t. He’d seen worse, he’d faced worse, people have straight up asked him to kill himself to his face and yet, a little girl screaming in pure terror was what shredding him into pieces.

He felt the hand between his shoulder blades, pressing lightly, a soothing pattern of circles being rubbed in and his first instinct was to shake it off, to shake Tony off – he didn’t need the pity – but then, he decided on the other option; let the comfort seep through and he breathed, in and out, in and out.

Tony didn’t say a word, keeping his hand in motion over Bucky’s back as Manhattan sung its familiar song beneath their feet. Sometime later, when the light on next tower was less blurred out, Bucky muttered out an apology which Tony was quick to shake off. 

Bucky snorted when Tony pushed the Tupperware to him, “I really need your verdict on palak paneer. For science.”

Affection rolled out in abundance for the man, for both dropping the topic off purchase and for just being there. Bucky picked at the green block of cheese and asked, “Why do you have fork and spoon with you?”

“Friday,” Tony shrugged easily.

Bucky swallowed his bite and fixed Tony with an unimpressed stare, “You making her spy on me now?”

“I just asked her to let me know when you exit your man cave and she hinted I should probably carry cutleries out for you,” Tony shrugged again, but the frantic manner in which his fingers tapped away at his sternum gave away his emotions.

The next question kind of just slipped out of Bucky’s mouth, soft and muted in between his hesitant wondering and wants, he asked, “Worried?”

This time, Tony looked him in the eyes, molten brown iris swimming with nightlights and something more as he studied Bucky’s face carefully. “Want me to stop?” He asked just as softly.

Bucky inhaled shakily, eyes flickering down to Tony’s mouth, the bristles of his moustache and beard and he wondered how they will feel against his skin, on his lips, his tongue – 

“Kinda want you to never stop,” he rasped, swallowing thickly, forcing his gaze back up. But it’s hard when Tony’s lips quivered, breaking into a shy smile, stretching out into a grin and Bucky lurched forward, unable to control his action.

Tony met him halfway, mouth warm but nose cold as it mushed into Bucky’s cheek and Bucky couldn’t give a single fuck, mindfully placing down the Tupperware far from them as he curled his fingers around Tony’s neck, fingertips tickling with the shortly cropped hair on the back as he pulled Tony in and in until they’re breathless and aching with wants.

“Good?” He gasped, thumbing at the faint freckle hidden under Tony’s beard and Tony kissed him once, twice, “Dunno, think I need to double check,” again and again and, “triple, quadruple,” and again until Bucky’s hoisting him onto his lap, limbs curled around, clinging to each other and they’re laughing into each other’s mouths.

-

Few days later, Tony caught him frowning at the reflection of his metal arm on the bathroom mirror, scooped him into a hug from behind, pressed his face between Bucky’s shoulder blades and murmured, “It’s not just the kid is it?”

“It’s everything,” Bucky rasped, pressing an index over the hypertrophied scars connected to the metal. He felt the press of warm mouth over his back and sighed. Closed his eyes against the trace of careful fingers up the leftover jagged skin of his left shoulder and remembered to breathe.

Just two nights ago Tony made a point of kissing every inch of them, unyielding even when Bucky had tried to stop him, to distract him -, _“Shh,”_ he’d hushed, _“Just let me. Okay?”_

_“Okay.”_

Yet, there he was today, hating it again. He felt like he should apologize to Tony. For wasting his time in trying to make Bucky accept that part of him. But then again, it wasn’t like Bucky asked him to. So he bit his tongue and breathed out.

“Is it painful?” Tony asked, lips brushing Bucky’s bare skin with every word.

Bucky shook his head. Tony hummed, the vibration from his chest caring forward to Bucky’s back. He leaned back into him, let Tony hold him for the while his heart was stupidly heavy.

“Mine used too,” Tony said and Bucky snapped his eyes open, surprised by the admission. He turned around in Tony’s hold, pulled back a little to fit a hand over the mesh of scars on his chest.

“Did it hurt,” he swallowed, locking eyes with Tony, “when they…,”

“Don’t know,” Tony shrugged. “Sort of passed out, during, but after…,” trailed off.

Bucky nodded understandingly, “Me too. Not now though.”

Tony grinned, tipping up on his toes so the crown of his head nudged at Bucky’s chin, palms pressed firmly over Bucky’s shoulders, pulling in with a glinting metal hand over his sternum and he chuckled, “What a pair we make eh?”

Bucky snorted, then just doubled over and laughed, pulling Tony into a tight hug, his own large frame curling over Tony’s as his eyes teared up. He’d never thought he’d ever find someone who could understand this part of him and yet, there he was, Tony Stark.

“Like we’re made for each other,” he whispered scandalously into Tony’s ear, prompting more snorting and grunting before Tony pulled away and tapped Bucky’s laugh-dimpled cheek twice. 

“Okay snowflake, one more sappy thing and my quota ends for the year.”

Bucky hummed, turning back to the mirror. He toweled his damp hair one last time, wrapped it around his hips, all the while eyeing Tony work the razor with precision over his Van-dyke. 

He waited until Tony put it down before leaning in to whisper, “Soulmate,” and he promptly exited, lips pressed tight containing the bubbling laughter in his chest as Tony yelled from the bathroom, “I told you, one thing! You bastard!”


End file.
